I’m yelling at an empty room, having paused for a few minutes from communicating telepathically with several beautiful young women in the food court. God speaks through me, explaining that midnight is the judgment hour.
Before 1986 I used to crack up regularly, sometimes as often as once a year. It was not pretty, at least when viewed from the outside. My friends tell me that I became a different person–someone angry and wild, impossible to reach, ugly and even violent.